


The  Unmasking Festival

by Kurohitenshi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Braavos, Canon - Book, Canon Compliant, Dark, Dark Jon Snow, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Jonrya Week 2020, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut, Spoilers for Book 6 - The Winds of Winter, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurohitenshi/pseuds/Kurohitenshi
Summary: For Jonrya Week 2020: Day 2 - DarkWhen Jon gets resurrected and finds out that Arya has been sent to Braavos after she comes to Castle Black and finds him dead, he obsessively journeys to Braavos in search of her. When he reaches the great city, it is the last day of The Unmasking of Uthero, which is a festival of masks and revelry. Jon finds himself in a black mask as he searches for his little sister. His footsteps lead him to The Satin Palace, home to the best courtesans in the world.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Arya Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 143
Collections: Jonrya Week: January 2020





	The  Unmasking Festival

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings. Adult themes. May contain mild dub-con. Explicit sex. Also ages are not mentioned but assume a bit of a time skip occurs. I leave the ages up to the interpretation of the reader.

For the first time since he came back to life, Jon was overcome with awe at the sight of the gigantic Titan statue. Across foggy waters, the boat glided gently between its legs and into the Free City of Braavos.

His heart sped up at the sight of unfamiliar buildings up ahead, knowing that his little sister was hidden away somewhere in there, needing him so much. It had been years since he had last seen her. He longed to touch her and hold her, to tell her she was finally safe.

When Jon stepped off the rocking boat and stood on the solid stone docks of a green canal, his body seemed to sway for a moment. He had been at sea for weeks, after a grueling pace on horseback from Castle Black to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.

Before he left, five traitors died by his sword, as they dared to get in the way between Jon and _her_. After that, no one dared to question him again, especially after realising that not even death could stop him from trying to get to _his_ Arya.

Jon was resurrected by the red priestess, but her pleas for him to stay and fight for the upcoming war did nothing to sway him from what he desired the most. He was obsessed with the last memory that he had before his violent death: _stick them with the pointy end_. That, and his obsessive need to save his little sister from anyone who tried to use and abuse her.

At Castle Black, Jon became aware that the conditions of serving the Night’s Watch had been fulfilled through his death. As he hastened to cover himself in battle gear so that he could immediately set out for Winterfell, Jon almost missed something that Val was trying to tell him.

"What?" Jon demanded, gritting his teeth in anger. He could have sworn that Val had said Arya's name. Jon had no idea why anyone uttering her name caused him so much rage as if only Jon had the right to say it out loud.

"I said," Val answered in frustration as if she had been trying to tell him something for the past hour. "While you were dead, your little sister Arya was here. She was taken here by Theon Greyjoy. Because you had once told someone that you had intended to foster Arya at Braavos, Ser Justin Massey, and that banker Tycho Nestoris took her to Braavos with them."

Jon had seethed, wanting to berate her even if he knew it wasn’t her fault. Instead, he left that same day, intent on following Arya to Braavos instead of going to Winterfell to kill the bastard with his own hands. He needed to see her with his own eyes, needed to feel the tangle of her hair with his fingers, and hear the sound of her heartbeat over her chest. He needed her more than his thirst for revenge.

Presently, Jon took a deep breath, letting the smell of salt, fish, and cooking food wash over him. The sound of music and merriment drew him inland, his senses taking in all the strange unfamiliarity of the city. There were so many cats that crossed his path. His eyes took in the hung flags, banners, and other decorations that made the foggy alleys come alive in a sea of colour, as well as the vibrant and elaborate masks that every person seemed to be wearing.

”Would you like to buy a mask?” a young boy asked, approaching him with a toothy grin. “You’re very naked right now without one.”

Jon paused, looking closely at the boy and his cart full of masks, from animal faces to ones that looked like monsters. He seemed as if he had originated from the Summer Isles, like one of the crew members of the ship that Jon had used. He looked about Arya’s age. Jon wondered if the boy had crossed paths with her at some point.

”I will buy one if you give me some information,” Jon said.

The boy smirked. “It’ll cost you, of course.”

”Of course,” Jon agreed.

From the young peddler, Jon learned about the layout of the city, where everything was, including the Iron Bank, the Sealord’s palace, and other places of interest. He also learned about what was going on right now in the city.

The Unmasking of Uthero was an event in Braavosi history in which the city, until then secret to the rest of the nations and realms of the world, announced its existence. The anniversary of the Unmasking was celebrated in a ten-day festival of masks and revelry. During midnight of the tenth day, the Titan of Braavos roared, and all celebrants and revelers removed their masks as one. Today was the last day of the festival.

Jon paid the boy and chose the simplest mask he could find: a black one, like the rest of his clothes since he was still dressed as if he was a member of the Night's Watch. He made his way deeper into the city, observing the differences between the clothing of the people participating in the revelry, as well as their languages. People from all over the world were here, laughing and celebrating while being oblivious to the looming war that was threatening the North over the Narrow Sea.

He crossed a market and only paused long enough to buy provisions for his travel pack. He went past the street entertainment that consisted of mummers and fools until the crowd thinned out. He followed alleys towards the centre of the city, avoiding shady-looking individuals who eyed his belongings and whores who tried to beckon him into their brothels.

Soon, at the end of a long alleyway, Jon emerged into a square that was in the shadow of the most significant structure he's seen so far in the city. It stretched high into the sky, half as high as the Wall, decorated with unfamiliar handsome statues, and topped with a golden dome. Guards with purple plumes in their steel caps stood at the entrance as people of high importance and wealth milled in and out.

Jon felt horribly underdressed in his frayed and tattered black garb compared to the men and women in their silk and velvet finery, but it didn't bother him. Perhaps the fact that they were all in masks made it seem as if they were all on equal footing. He walked steadily through the entrance, aware of the guards' eyes watching him closely.

Inside, a young man in a blue and white wolf mask went to him, oddly reminding him of Ghost, who he had to leave behind in the wilderness of The Gift.

"Greetings! May I know your business here?" the young man asked politely. He spoke the common tongue with an unfamiliar accent.

"I have an account here. I am the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Jon lied, as he had relinquished that position to his friend Eddison Tollett when he left the Wall for good. "Is Tycho Nestoris here? He is the envoy I have dealt with before."

"Ah, of course!" the young man acknowledged. "Please come this way."

Jon was led to a lavish antechamber where he was told to wait. As he removed his mask, he stared at the plush green velvet cushions on gilded gold benches and decided just to stand. It took no more than a few minutes before Tycho Nestoris emerged, his eyes wide as he looked at Jon in disbelief. He appeared the same as before: tall, thin, and gaunt. He was not masked, and his narrow face looked pale as if he was looking at a ghost. His hands were nervously stroking his long, thin beard, the one that almost reached his waist.

"You died!" Tycho exclaimed as he looked at him up and down. He looked utterly bewildered. "And you're here!"

"I need to find her," Jon declared, wasting no time in small talk. "Where is my little sister? Arya. They said you brought her to Braavos with you."

Tycho told him everything, about finding Arya and Theon in Stannis's camp, then being sent on to Castle Black to be reunited with Jon, her only living brother.

Jon couldn't help but shudder, a piercing agony wrenching his heart. After escaping the cruelty of Ramsay Bolton and wanting nothing but safety, Arya had arrived at Castle Black, only she was informed that Jon had died. She would have felt all alone in the world as all of her family were ripped away cruelly from her.

"There is something else," Tycho said sadly. "She lost a small part of her nose to frostbite."

He almost punched the intricately-painted wall of the room that depicted the Fall of Valyria. His horror was difficult to contain. What kind of gods would allow a young girl to suffer so much? After losing her last remaining family, did she have to suffer by having her face disfigured as well? Jon's fists shook at his sides in rage.

Arya was bullied as a child as Sansa, and her friends teased her about her looks. Jon had been the one to soothe her and tell her that she was the most beautiful girl he knew, for that was the truth of it in his eyes. And he knew that he was not the only one who thought so. Jon had heard men comparing his little sister to their Aunt Lyanna, who was said to be as beautiful as a Winter Rose.

But for Arya's face to be disfigured? Jon swallowed painfully, his eyes feeling wet. He blinked quickly, trying to rid himself of his tears, and was relieved that Tycho said nothing.

"Where is she now? I need to see her. She needs to come home," Jon said, feeling desperate to hold her in his arms.

Tycho explained to him where she was now. Arya was taken to a world-famous courtesan named The Black Pearl, where she was kept as a highborn guest. But to get to Arya was a complicated matter, for she was stowed away in secret so that not even kings or queens could get to her since the Iron Bank considered her as the Queen in the North, King Robb's trueborn heir.

Jon left the Iron Bank with trepidation, as he was now one step closer to finding his sister. The young man in the wolf mask accompanied him, leading the way to a part of the city that was lavish, but also sensual.

They entered a building that was called _The Satin Palace_. It was a brothel meant for the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world, smelling of expensive perfume. From behind sheer red curtains, he could hear giggles from girls, and warm, soothing voices of older women as they entertained their patrons.

His guide spoke to an elderly matron in a severe hairstyle that pulled at her face. She dressed in a high-necked black silk gown with a golden dragon brooch at her breast. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, as seemed to be the local custom, before speaking in coded words. The woman turned her gaze to look Jon over, running her wise old eyes all over his form, from his head to his boots.

Jon felt self-conscious for the first time in this city. Perhaps he looked too conspicuous in his black garb. He hadn't bathed since --

He almost cringed. The last time he felt clean was before he died.

Jon sighed in defeat, wondering if they wouldn't even entertain him just because he looked like a common ruffian from the alley.

"What is your name?" the old woman asked as she gestured for him to stand before her.

Jon went to her, conscious of the way he carried himself. He knew that his position as the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch would hold some sort of weight, but he wondered if they had other requirements here.

"My name is Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Jon answered.

"And what is your purpose here, Lord Snow?"

"I've come to collect my little sister," he said, trying his best to be patient.

"This young man claims that you are who you say you are. But my mistress will require you to prove yourself first."

"How so?" Jon asked in annoyance. He felt like he was wasting his time, but he dared not ruin his chances. This was a test, of that he was certain.

She smiled at him, showing a perfect row of white teeth. Jon was reminded of a sly fox.

"Lord Snow," she said in an airy voice. "You are in the finest brothel in all the world. To unlock its secrets, you must utilise it the way it was intended."

Jon almost groaned. Of course, there was a catch. But it was extremely absurd. Did they want him to have to pay for a woman before they would talk to him for true?

"You look angry, I can tell," she said in a falsely deceiving voice. "But fear not, Lord Snow. Your sister is not lost to you. Do this one task, and you will be much closer to her soon. She is awaiting you in one of our chambers."

There was something about her words that made him think of the red priestess Mellisandre, but he ignored it. "What is stopping me from going from room to room in search of her?"

"The patrons here are more important than you and I. Do you think they don't have guards? And if you make mischief here, it will only become more difficult for this sister that you want to claim," she explained. Her head tilted to the side slightly, and she looked puzzled. "How will you expect to care for this sister, I wonder. You cannot hope to bring her back to the Wall, amongst all the rapers and criminals?"

"Of course not!" Jon growled. "Anyway, we're wasting time. I am prepared to pay. You need not give me a woman. I am not interested. I will pay the price as if I would have had her, just to appease you."

She looked intrigued, and her eyes were dancing with mirth. "My dear Lord Snow, you do humour me. You cannot possibly afford any of the women here. They are the best courtesans in the world. The best you could do would be to speak to one of the little mermaids who are still in training. Perhaps they could let you have a peek at a nipple."

"Then why are you offering a woman if you already knew I couldn't afford one?" Jon demanded.

She laughed lightly. "I didn't say you had to pay. I said you had to utilise this place the way it's intended. I do have the perfect girl for you. I think I know your type."

Jon touched the pommel of Longclaw, wanting to run it through her throat. If only it were that easy. But he was a world away from the lands that were defined by bloodshed and violence. Braavos was a place of riddles and cloaked daggers.

Did he have to bed a girl just to get to Arya? In truth, Jon would do anything for her. But this seemed absurd. He couldn't imagine himself wanting to touch anyone but Arya right now. He almost shuddered at the mere thought of it.

"You look almost disgusted," she remarked without judgment. "Is it a boy that you seek then? I could send for one from the brothel next door."

Jon gritted his teeth. "A girl is acceptable."

She clapped her hands together, smiling pleasantly. "You will not regret your decision!"

***

Jon was shown to a spacious chamber that overlooked the green canals outside. He could see masked revelers walking up and down the alleys, hear the music from drum and strings, and hear the singers that accompanied the instruments. The smell of baking bread and roasting meat made his mouth water, and his stomach grumbled.

A bath had been prepared for him. Despite his reservations, Jon took advantage of the opportunity to wash away over a month's worth of grime. He must smell like death itself, and he almost felt sorry for the men who had to share his cabin in the ship that he used to cross the Narrow Sea.

When he was finished, the copper tub's water became dark grey in colour. He donned fresh smallclothes and a tunic from his travel pack, and wore his old riding leathers, ignoring the black silk robe that had been left for him on top of the bed. Remembering the local custom, Jon once again donned the black mask over his face before he sat on the bed to wait.

Instead, he was given a proper meal consisting of roasted lamb, potatoes, spicy fish soup, fresh greens, and sweet red wine. Apple tea was served afterward, and while Jon was sipping it, he began to feel better. His head felt clearer, his mind not as conflicted.

But still, he wondered if he was wasting time in this room as he waited. Could they be whisking Arya away again, far away to a place that Jon could never hope to reach? 

They could try, but it wasn't possible. Jon had no other priority other than Arya now. He would take her from this brothel, and they could live together in the city if she wanted. They didn't have to go back to Westeros, its lands littered with squabbling kings and monsters both human and inhuman.

As for the matter of actually retrieving Arya...

The Iron Bank spoke true, he could feel it. And the riddles in the dark in this forsaken Satin Palace had to be solved. Jon would pretend to bed the offered girl, and slip her some coin for her silence. That would fulfill the absurd requirement of the accursed _Black Pearl_.

Jon sighed tiredly, watching as the room fell slowly into darkness. He wondered what was taking so long.

A servant knocked, entered, and lit the fire at the hearth, as well as the many candles that surrounded the room. It smelled sweet, like beeswax.

A soft knock at the door broke him from his thoughts, and a small slip of a girl entered.

Jon watched her closely, feeling uneasy. Although he couldn't see her face because of an intricate mask that she wore, the girl's slim form indicated that she was possibly far too young to be in this brothel.

"How old are you?" Jon couldn't help but ask. Already the girl was reminding him of his little sister, just as most girls did.

"Six and ten," she answered in a voice that had no foreign accent. She went to stand in front of him, close but not too close. "And may I ask yours, my lord?"

Jon blinked in surprise, wondering if she was lying about her age. Something about the girl was familiar, but he couldn't discern what it was. He forced himself to answer, "I am older and wiser. That is all you need to know."

Although he couldn't see her face because of the intricate mask she wore, her eyes looked amused. He wondered if the emotion was genuine. He wouldn't be surprised if the girl was trained to be a mummer too.

"I wasn't told much about you. You don't have to tell me your name," she said. "You could give me a false one if you wish. But you could call me Naerys."

Jon was amused despite himself. A brief flash of memory came to him, that of playing swords with Robb, where he called himself the Dragonknight. "I suppose you could call me Aemon then. Prince Aemon the Dragonknight."

She nodded slowly before immediately focusing on her task. Her hand reached behind her head and pulled the knot of the ribbon free, removing her mask.

Jon held his breath, half-hoping to find his sister's face, but it was a face he did not know instead. His heart sank in disappointment as he looked at the girl's pretty face and honey-blond hair. But the eyes...

He couldn't help but hold her face between his hands gently as he whispered to her, "Your eyes."

To her credit, she did not flinch. She looked back at him steadily with the grey eyes of his little sister Arya. She was no longer smiling, and for a half a heartbeat, she leaned into his touch.

"Tell me who you see," she asked him carefully, smiling at him shyly.

That broke the spell, and Jon pushed her away. He forced himself to stop staring at her eyes. Instead, he looked at the rest of her body.

Jon gritted his teeth, again noticing how small she was, and so skinny. Besides the hair and the face, this girl could almost pass as Arya. His heart skipped a beat as he dared imagine it.

"You remind me of someone, too," she said softly. She sounded sad. "A brother."

He almost felt betrayed by her words. Surely, the girl must have been told of Jon's purpose here: to retrieve his beloved sister. Was this girl mocking him?

And yet, there was something truthful in her gaze as she looked at him. And as their eyes met again, Jon came to a decision.

Jon missed Arya with all his heart, but there was one thing that his body craved that should never be sated. The fact that he could even still think about it after everything Arya had been through was a true mark of what an abomination he had become. Perhaps Lady Catelyn was right about him, after all.

Naerys, or whoever she truly was, took his silence as compliance with what was about to transpire. She was wearing an elaborate pink silk robe that cinched at the waist with a white belt also made of silk. She pulled on the knot in front of her waist, and before Jon could protest and tell her to stop, the robes fell open, revealing her bare body underneath.

Jon stared, his cock stirring from beneath his riding leathers.

The girl's body was slender with small breasts and a lovely slit that was wonderfully exposed like a proper courtesan. Her waist was narrow, and her hips were wide as it tapered out beautifully.

"Where do you want me?" the girl asked, clearing her throat. She sounded almost nervous now as if this was the first time that she was doing this. There was a determined look on her face as she picked up his burnt hand, stared at it for a moment, before pressing it against her breast.

Beneath his hand, he could feel the wild beating of her heart. Jon frowned, feeling protective of this girl that reminded him of his sister.

"Why are you here?" Jon asked.

The girl sighed at his inaction. Although his hand was still over the small curve of her breast, she wasn't satisfied. Changing tactics, she let the robe fall, so she was completely naked and climbed over his lap so that her side was pressed against his front.

Jon gritted his teeth, knowing that she could now feel his erection poking at her rump.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she asked in a soft voice.

Jon nodded, saying nothing.

"This is my first and last. If I do this, I will be free."

"Why not run away in the first place?"

"They would never allow me. Where I'm going, I don't need to have them chasing behind my back."

"And where are you going?"

"Far away," she said. "Home."

"Where is home?"

She frowned. "You don't need to concern yourself with that. Especially not with a naked girl on your lap."

Jon couldn't say anything to that. Instead, he touched her slowly, letting his fingers explore every inch of her. Her face bothered him, and the hair was all wrong. But her small frame and her eyes...

A madness seemed to have taken over him as he fondled her breasts gently before leaning down and sucking a nipple. Bedding Ygritte was completely different because she was so much older than him when it happened. This time, Jon was in complete control of this girl. He found that he much preferred this.

Jon's hands were busy as he kept alternating on suckling each dusky pink nipple of her breasts. His hand fell between her legs, gently caressing her mound at first before letting his fingers touch between her folds.

"You're completely soaked," Jon said as he pulled away from her breasts. "Who are you thinking of?"

"No one in particular," she answered, her voice hitching as Jon continued to tease her between her legs.

"Do you like what I'm doing to you? I could let you come, and that could be it. We'll tell them you did your job well and that I was satisfied."

She shook her head, her cheeks stained red as she couldn't hold back the moan from her lips. Jon stroked her slippery little nub, making her legs fall open even more.

Gasping, she forced herself to answer. "They need proof."

"Proof?"

"My maiden's blood," she said, her hips rising as she met his fingers eagerly.

Jon paused what he was doing to her, making her whine. He swallowed, thinking himself as lacking honour now. This girl was someone's little sister too. He shouldn't even be touching her this way.

And yet, for Arya's sake, Jon would have to discard honour too, just as he had done when he broke his vows for her.

Jon closed his eyes in defeat. "Should I remove my mask now? Will that be better for you?"

"I would rather not have a face or an identity linked to the man who's about to take my honour," she answered in an even tone.

He nodded his head and had an idea. "Lie back then. I can take your maidenhead but not in the way that will haunt you for the rest of your life."

She looked confused but still did as he asked. Leaving his lap, she went to the lie on the bed, her legs slightly open so that he could see all of her beautiful body.

"You need to open your legs and put your knees against your shoulders," Jon instructed. When she did as he asked, his heart started beating faster. "Good. Now reach down and open your folds for me. Show me everything."

Her whole face was flushed but she obeyed him. Jon found himself kneeling in front of her, taking in her lovely body. Everything was open to him. She held her legs and her folds open in invitation and Jon could barely hold himself back from pulling his cock out and impaling her.

But he could see her pink maidenhead clearly inside her folds and that gave him pause. He looked back up at her eyes and saw only Arya.

It pained him, wanting her so much that his whole body ached for her, but also not wanting to hurt or dishonour her.

Jon undid the laces of his breeches and pulled his cock out. He squeezed it for a second before stroking it a few times.

"Will you put that in me?" she asked uncertainly.

"Probably not," Jon answered reassuringly. "Unless you want me to."

"But my maidenhead..." she protested.

"We can get rid of it, don't worry," Jon said. He touched her between the legs again, stroking her sensitive nub. He couldn't help but lean down and taste her, to lap at the sides of her clit and lick inside the open folds that she still held open for him. She tasted lovely and smelled so good. Her heady scent drove him mad.

The girl was moaning, her legs quivering at his ministrations.

Jon was relentless in making sure she knew the pleasure of the lord's kiss. And when her whole body shuddered, her hands falling from between her legs, Jon put his own hands on her. He exposed her slit again, marveling at her pink insides.

"Are you sure about this?" Jon asked.

"Yes!" she said, still panting as she was still coming down from her orgasm.

"I'll break it with my fingers. Would that be agreeable with you?"

She blinked and hesitated before she shook her head. "Might as well use your cock."

Jon almost shuddered at her answer. He nodded in agreement, positioning the head of his eager cock at her entrance. "Just the tip, just so we could break it. I don't think it'll even fit."

"I'm sure it'll fit," she said, rolling her eyes. "Put it in then, stupid."

The childish moniker made him gasp and his surprise prompted him to drive his hips forward so that the head of his cock pushed through the barrier of her opening.

She gasped, her legs shaking as her eyes widened in shock. Jon felt like a monster, but he couldn't help but push in just a little deeper still.

"Does it hurt?" he asked in concern.

She shook her head. "Not much."

Jon nodded, stilling his hips. He looked down at their connected bodies, where the head of his cock had disappeared inside her wet slit. Her cunt was like a vice in its tightness and Jon wondered what it was like to sink his cock even deeper.

But he suddenly remembered her word from before, when she had called him stupid. Her voice sounded familiar then, as if...

But that was not possible, of course.

She looked like she was getting used to it thankfully. Jon began to tease her clit again, making her feel pleasure. With his other hand, he began to stroke the length of his cock which was still outside her body.

"Tell me something true," Jon said to her. "We will probably never see each other again. Do I truly remind you of someone?"

The girl hesitated for a moment before she nodded.

"Who?"

"My brother," she whispered. "But he's dead now. Everyone's dead except my sister. But she never loved me."

Jon's heart stopped. His mind could make all the connections but his eyes could still see a stranger's face. And the fact that his cock was inside her...

"You can remove your mask," she said in resignation. "And I'll remove mine."

"What? How?" Jon asked in confusion.

But she was pulling at something at the side of her face and suddenly, as if by magic, it was as if a fog had been lifted. The familiar grey eyes stared up at him as he took in her hair which had changed from honey-blond to brown. And he knew that face anywhere.

Without waiting for him to respond, she pulled him forward, letting the rest of his cock slide deep inside her, breaking her maidenhead completely. She moaned, her nipples stiff as she threw her head back.

Jon was horrified as he tried his best not to rip himself out of her, because he didn't want to hurt her further.

Instead, he forced himself to unmask himself. With shaky hands, he untied the bindings to his black mask. She looked up at him, as if changing her appearance was not even worth mentioning. And when he finally pulled the mask away, revealing his own face, her eyes widened, and she gasped.

"Jon!" she cried, tears in her eyes as she sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Jon welcomed her with open arms, pulling her to his lap and feeling strange to still have his entire cock inside her. But she didn't seem to mind at all. She was openly crying as she kissed him all over his face. She started to move her hips up and down as if she didn't even care that they were siblings.

"Arya," Jon said to her in a hoarse voice. "Is that truly you, little sister?"

"I thought you died," Arya said desperately, not at all stopping her movements. "Jeyne Poole said so. And the man from the Iron Bank, Tycho Nestoris."

"Jeyne Poole? They said you had lost a part of your nose. Does that mean that Ramsay had her instead of you?"

Arya nodded. "Yes, but enough of that. Do you mind finishing what you started so we could talk some more?"

Jon groaned. "You want me, your older brother, to keep fucking you? I've already broken your maidenhead. Do you know how wrong this is?"

Arya looked at him as if he was stupid. "Your cock doesn't seem to think so. It's still as hard as a rock."

"Arya..." Jon protested.

"Just finish it so we could talk properly," Arya pleaded.

"Fine!" Jon said huffing. He could never deny her anything, so he may as well let her enjoy it. It will be the only time they'll do this. They'll have to go back to being siblings after tonight.

Laying her back, Jon opened her legs wide and drank in her beautiful form. He was happy at how much she had grown, but a part of him was horrified at what he was doing. The monster he became after his resurrection rejoiced, and soon, his mind was clouded over in his need to claim her.

Soon, Jon was fucking her in earnest, eagerly watching his cock go in and out of her tight slit. Arya was moaning with each of his thrusts, her small breasts bouncing with each movement. Just the sight of her almost set him off, but he was determined to let her come as many times as he could.

Arya was able to orgasm twice more before Jon chased his release. His head was spinning at how good Arya felt wrapped around his cock. Jon pulled out of her cunt at the last minute, his cock spurting his seed all over her belly and the outside of her slit.

Jon was panting, his whole body sweaty as he watched his work, at how much he had desecrated the little sister he sought to rescue. Blood, juices, and his seed trickled out of her, driving him insane.

He was mad with possession, lust, and obsession.

"The night's not over yet," Arya said all of a sudden.

"What?" Jon asked in surprise.

"We can go back to being siblings tomorrow?" she suggested.

He groaned and despite his misgivings, he pressed his whole body between her legs, capturing her lips with his own for the first time. Not as a brother would, but as a lover. She met his lips with fervor, eager and excited.

"I love you, Arya," he confessed with all his heart. "And I'm sorry I did this to you."

"Don't be sorry. I wanted it too," she replied earnestly. "And I love you so much, Jon. Please never leave me again."

This one he could do. Jon kissed her all over her face, smiling down at her. "I promise. Wherever you go, I'll always be with you."

"Always?"

"Always."

Jon bedded her a few more times that night, letting all his love and relief at finding her manifest itself through his desire and passion. Arya responded just as eagerly, her body fitting so well with his own.

Outside, the Titan of Braavos roared, and all the celebrants and revelers removed their masks as one. Cheers erupted and there was a lot of toasting and laughter. 

Inside the Satin Palace, Jon and Arya were too lost in their reunion, the world outside their own forgotten.

Different roads led them back to Braavos. Perhaps tomorrow, they'll decide to take back Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton. But tonight, all they needed was each other.

***

Half a world away, a great pack of wolves led by Nymeria found a lone white direwolf on their journey towards the North. Ghost found in Nymeria his true mate and together, they began to rule the Wolfs Wood outside of Winterfell, causing havoc to enemy armies and tearing apart the hounds of the Bolton bastard.

_The lone wolf dies but the pack survives._

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a reverse where instead of Arya rushing to the North, Jon goes to Braavos in search of her instead.


End file.
